


Serenade #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 12

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Love Confessions, Love songs, M/M, Serenade, Valentines, ineffable valentines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: A serenade doesn’t always have to be in person. Crowley accidentally pours his heart out to his Angel without even knowing it. Technology can be a double edged sword.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 63
Kudos: 199
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Serenade #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 12

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



Aziraphale was incredulous. “You trapped Hastur in your new-fangled answering machine?” he exclaimed in amazement. Crowley snorted with derision and sipped more champagne. “Hardly new-fangled, Angel. It’s practically an antique by today’s standards, I’ve had that thing since the ‘80s.”

They’d been regaling each other with tales of their exploits that had led up to the day of Armageddon, filling in the gaps. It had begun with Aziraphale telling Crowley about making the Archangel Michael miracle him a towel, and continued over dinner at the Ritz, where they still sat.

He’d told Crowley about all the humans he had inadvertently possessed around the world before finally settling in one in the right country, when he stumbled into Madame Tracey’s corporation during the séance. The Occult ritual, no matter how poorly executed, had, nonetheless, provided a suitable conduit to make Madame Tracey stand out like a beacon in the ethereal plane, and thus act as a portal back to Earth in the right city that Aziraphale needed.

Crowley had begun to regale him with his own activities in the chaos of the previous couple of days, as the champagne flowed easily. They’d got to deciphering the entire misunderstanding over the missed and misconstrued phone calls, and Crowley had mentioned how he had tricked Hastur between his mobile and landline, trapping him in the old answerphone, at least temporarily, until an incoming call set him free on some unsuspecting humans.

Which led to an exasperated Crowley deciding it was time to take Aziraphale to task over his ridiculously slow uptake of modern technology. “I want to be able to get hold of you no matter where you are, Angel, or when. What if it’s urgent? I can’t just keep calling the shop and hoping to hell that you’re there at that particular moment.” He took another gulp of champagne, feeling decidedly tipsy by this point. “I mean… look at how long it took you to concede to even get that old rotary phone in the shop. I had to pester you for _decades_ before you caved into that one.”

Aziraphale looked shamefaced. “Yes, yes, I know, and you’ve been pestering me for decades over this mobile phone nonsense as well, dear boy, and I suppose you’re right. Very well, what do you suggest?”

Crowley looked down at his iphone and sighed. “Here, I wanted to upgrade anyway, you take my old one, at least you already know the number.” He snapped his fingers and summoned a brand new one from behind the locked doors of the apple shop several streets away. It was easier than waiting for the shop to open in the morning. In deference to Aziraphale’s good influence, he made sure that the till receipts and paperwork would match up in the morning as well. He fired it up and forced it to connect to the network, making the computer system issue him with a new number, which he ensured had at least 3 sixes in a row in it, and then put it into his old mobile under his name, and handed it over to the angel.

Aziraphale gazed at the phone in drunken confusion. “So how does one use one of these things then?” Crowley blinked at him slowly. The angel was too inebriated to be able to take all of this in, besides, they were the last two in the restaurant and the waiter was looking decidedly fed up with hanging around. The rest of the staff were presumably also rather irritated, despite how well the tall redhead was wont to tip them – the only reason they hadn’t been unceremoniously turfed out already.

Crowley sighed. “I think we’d best hit the road, Angel, I’ll show you back at the bookshop. Lift home?” Aziraphale nodded. Crowley settled the bill with an embarrassingly large tip, more than sufficient to cover the overtime for all the staff who had stayed behind, and they made their way out to the Bentley. Once in the car, they both grimaced as they sobered up for the drive home.

Sober Crowley regretted his loss of inhibitions. He’d been feeling unusually relaxed around Aziraphale that evening, as the stresses of the previous few days receded in a haze of alcohol. He’d been wanting to find a way to get some words out, something important, but now the moment had vanished, and he no longer felt brave enough to try. They both needed a bit of time to come to terms with things anyway. Best they just got some rest.

Aziraphale hadn’t seen his restored bookshop yet anyway. Crowley parked up outside and followed him in, smiling gently at the joyful expression on the angel’s face as he explored the restored shop and new old books that Adam had thought to populate it with. He finally turned to Crowley. “This is all so splendid. Will you join me for some tea? Well…” he corrected himself, “coffee at least, then you can show me how to use this new device as well.” Crowley nodded. He’d prefer to get back to the hard stuff again, perhaps build up a little Dutch courage to find those elusive words again, but no, now was not the time.

“Coffee, yes, coffee is fine, Angel.” He sighed and collapsed into the familiar contours of the ancient sofa, a little cloud of dust puffing up around him as he sat down. He sneezed and laughed. “He even got the authentic dust” he grinned. Aziraphale smiled and headed to the little kitchenette to pop the kettle on.

A short time later they sat, perforce side by side, closer than they had before, so Crowley could show Aziraphale the basics of operating the phone. He passed over some headphones, then showed the angel how to plug them in, showed him a few apps until he got the idea. “You can’t really mess it up too badly, it’s pretty intuitive once you’ve got the grip of the basic commands, and it’ll generally check and ask if you’re sure if you’re about to do something really stupid. If it ever asks for a password, they’re pretty much all sixes, so keep hitting 6 until it accepts it.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at him.

Aziraphale became aware that they had been sitting so close together that their knees were touching, and he shifted uneasily. The contact felt thrilling, but distinctly forbidden. “More coffee?” he croaked, finding his voice. Crowley coughed, embarrassed, realising what had made the angel uncomfortable. He suppressed a sigh of disappointment as Aziraphale stood up, sad for the loss of warm body contact between them, no matter how small.

“Uh, nah, I think I’d better be heading home, got to, uh… water the plants, y’know?” He stood and nodded at the phone in the angel’s hand. “Gimme a call tomorrow or something, yeah?” Aziraphale smiled and nodded tightly. He desperately wanted to ask him to stay, but something told him that now wasn’t the time. It was still all too much on top of everything they had been through.

“Of course, Crowley, and… thank you. For everything, my dear.” Aziraphale managed to stammer out. He reached out, hesitantly, and touched Crowley’s hand, just for a moment, with an uncertain smile, before drawing back. Crowley froze, looked like he wanted to say something, then bit his lip instead.

“Sure, no problem, Angel. Thank you too.” He shifted uneasily, then gave a little shrug. “Talk to you tomorrow, then? Night.” And he ambled to the door, then out into the night with a wave. Aziraphale’s heart sank slightly as he heard the rumble of the Bentley fade off into the night. Despite rarely partaking of sleep, he felt the urge to take a rest now, and headed to the simple flat above the shop to get his head down for a little while.

* * *

The next morning, Aziraphale decided to head out to an antique book auction on the other side of London, something that always took his mind off things. He settled down on the bus and decided to give Crowley a call as promised. He popped the headphones in and fumbled his way through the options until he remembered what to do, then was rewarded by the sound of a ring tone. He smiled happily, and heard a click as Crowley answered. “Yuh?” Sleepy.

“Oh, good morning, Crowley, I’m dreadfully sorry, did I wake you up?”

Crowley yawned. “Yeah, but no big deal, Angel, glad to see you’ve got the hang of the phone. How’re you doing today?”

Aziraphale smiled. He felt slightly odd seemingly talking to himself, as it felt, when using the headphone speaker to communicate. It really was going to take some getting used to. It felt strange not to be holding the device up to his ear. “Quite alright, just on my way over to an auction, I was thinking we could meet up for tea afterwards, later this afternoon perhaps. How does the Connaught sound?”

Crowley made satisfied little moaning noises on the other end of the line as he was clearly stretching out after waking. “mmmmm, yeah, that sounds good, Angel. My treat this time? What time?”

Aziraphale swallowed, the decadent moaning noise doing something quite unseemly to his insides. “Oh, er, I’m not quite sure what time I’ll get back so shall I give you another call when I’m on my way back again? Now that I can, I mean?” This phone really might come in rather useful, he thought to himself.

“Sure thing, Angel, you have fun. See you later, I might catch a bit more sleep for now, bye.”

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

He wondered how to hang up, then noticed that Crowley had already disconnected the call, so he didn’t have to. How convenient. The bus would take quite a while, so seeing others on the bus scrolling through their phones with apparent interest, he thought he should see what made them so interesting. He noticed a young Somalian gentleman sat next to him had tinny music coming from his own headphones, and smiled at him hopefully. “Er, excuse me young man, I wonder if you might help me a moment?” Aziraphale asked with his winning smile. The lad popped an earbud out and smiled back.

“Sure, what’s up, dude?” the fussy looking older gentleman next to him exuded an aura of such warm friendliness that he couldn’t help but feel kindly disposed to him.

“I notice that you have music coming from your, uh, device. I only just got this, from a friend, would you mind showing me how to get the music as well?” The young lad nodded and looked over at Aziraphale’s phone.

“Sure thing, my man. Lemme take a look.” He swiped through the apps, and noted that there was already music loaded on it in a series of playlists. “Here you go, there’s some playlists already there, your friend must have left it all on there instead of wiping it first.” He tapped the first one, entitled “Angel”, and passed the phone back with a smile, popping his ear bud back in again and turning back to his own phone.

* * *

  
  
(Playlist below, also link in end notes) 

Aziraphale looked down at the playlist in surprise. The first song that flooded into his ears was apparently entitled “From Eden” by someone called “Hozier”. It wasn’t exactly the kind of music he’d had in mind – a few piano concertos were more what he’d intended, but the lad was now taking a phone call and he didn’t wish to interrupt him again. He listened, and his eyes widened in surprise as he took in the lyrics.

With a shaking hand, he slowly scrolled down the playlist, the names alone making his eyes open wider. He knew some of them already. Others he didn’t, so he tapped them in turn, lost in a world of heartfelt lyrics from varying eras. He scrolled to the top of the playlist again and re-read the title: “Angel.” A chill flashed down his spine and his heart thumped an uneasy staccato rhythm in his chest as he took in the implications.

The bus came to the end of its route and turned around. He’d cruised long past his stop, he neither noticed nor cared. He stayed on, and continued to listen, rapt. Tears welled up in his eyes and flowed freely down his cheeks as he took in each line with new understanding.

He then tapped back too quickly and went back two menus, which showed him the entire list of playlists, there were others there. He wouldn’t have cared, he wanted to listen to more of the “Angel” list, but the next playlist caught his eye, “Angel 2” wasn’t very imaginative, but he tapped it anyway. The entire folder consisted of sequentially named tracks with no album art, just time and date stamps, titled variations on the theme of “recording 2, 14-2-18”. Curious, he tapped the first one.

A hiss of static, the scrape of a chair, a slight clearing of the throat, and light discordant scrape of bow across strings, then someone spoke. “Amor enim inhians habere quod Angelus est mihi” (”I am yearning for the love of an angel”). It was clearly Crowley’s voice. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat, before the strains of the violin began to draw themselves into his heart, and fresh tears ran anew from eyes already red with crying.

It was an ancient melody, one he hadn’t heard in thousands of years. It wasn’t written down anywhere, it wasn’t recorded anywhere, Crowley sang along in a low sweet voice, in the original Latin, to the music as he played. The song was lost to modern music, so Crowley clearly had no option but to play and record it himself. It hadn’t originally been played on a violin, of course, but Crowley was using whichever instrument worked for his purposes, he supposed.

Aziraphale listened to the track to its end. Part of him wanted to play it over again, but he could see that there was more in the playlist, so he resisted the urge, and allowed the next one to play.

More static, footsteps, a gentle cough and the sound of something being picked up and arranged. “ለዘላለም ፍቅርህን እጠብቃለሁ” Crowley declared in Amharic. (“I will wait forever for your love”). This time it was harp strings that flowed out from under his skilled fingers, in a melody even more ancient than the first. The words flowed out again in a low, slightly nervous voice, but strengthening with confidence as the melody wound on. Aziraphale recalled it being sung many thousands of years ago, on the hot dusty streets of a town in Africa, modern day Ethiopia, he seemed to recall, where they’d once both been posted for a while. He recalled Crowley would occasionally hum the refrain under his breath, and then stop when he remembered himself, looking away, embarrassed.

“אני מאבד את עצמי בעינייך לנצח” (“I lose myself in your eyes forever”) was the next track, sung in Hebrew to nothing more than the simple tympanic beat of a goatskin drum played with the fingers. It took Aziraphale a moment to remember this one, then recalled a time, sitting in the shade of an acacia tree near a well, watching the humans come and go, filling their water skins, and filling the trough to water their goats by the well.

An old man had limped slowly up then sat by them in the shade and observed his wife filling their water jugs which were strapped either side of the pack on their donkey’s back. She looked up and smiled at him, and he smiled back, and began tapping his walking stick on the stony ground in a regular tempo, then began to sing at her in his cracked, wavering old voice. She finished filling the jars, took a small pottery cup from the donkey’s panniers, filled it and brought it over to her husband with a warm smile, her fingers lingering gently on his as he accepted it from her with a twinkle in his eye.

Aziraphale had caught Crowley’s soft expression at that point and looked away hurriedly so as not to embarrass the demon by catching him in such a tender moment.

The track ended, and Crowley’s voice cracked slightly as he read the next song title out in Arabic. “أتمنى تقبيل شفاهك حلوة كعسل” (“I hope to kiss your lips sweet as honey”). This one again sung a capella, with only the regular thrumming of his quick fingers over the drum and the tap of a foot on hard floor.

Aziraphale jolted back to awareness as someone tapped his shoulder “’scuse me, mate, the bus terminates here, end of the line.” Aziraphale glanced up, surprised, into the gaze of a fellow passenger, coming back to his senses, smiling in thanks then looking around in a slight panic to find out where he had ended up. He had overshot his stop back near home quite considerably and had no idea where he was.

He stumbled from the bus, and scrolled down the list a little, seeing more tracks yet to listen to. He decided to make the most of it, and to walk back home, taking the time to listen to the rest of the music as he went.

As he walked, his aura glowed faintly with love, and behind him little, tiny miracles manifested in his wake. Wilting flowers on a shop display stand straightened up. A young woman who was out of work and struggling, found an extra tenner in her purse that hadn’t been there earlier in the day, enough for her to buy enough food to scrape by for the week. A boy out looking for his lost cat finally spotted it and swept it up in his arms gratefully. A politician out picking up a newspaper, spotted a wheelchair user struggling to negotiate a badly dropped kerb, and finally felt a tiny shred of empathy that would lead him down a path of actually pausing to think about other people’s struggles for once.

He came back to the bookshop again, having done an entire bus route around London for no purpose whatsoever, the auction entirely forgotten, completely absorbed in the beautiful music on Crowley’s old phone. He looked at the time. It was well into the afternoon, the time had flown in a haze of emotions. There was no doubt that every track that Crowley had recorded himself was aimed directly at Aziraphale. Each one was long lost to humankind and existed nowhere save the memories of a single angel and demon.

Crowley had clearly had thousands of years’ worth of time idle to pick up and learn various instruments and master them sufficiently to express himself beautifully with each one. Aziraphale had only ever heard him sing as Nanny Ashtoreth to baby Warlock, but never like this, never with such heartfelt emotion suffusing his voice. At the end of one or two tracks he could hear him crying. Aziraphale’s heart felt like it would burst from the sheer overwhelming emotion.

He looked at the door of his bookshop, and turned away, heading instead toward the Connaught. He paused the music and dialled Crowley. He answered in two rings. “Hi, Aziraphale, had fun at the auction then?”

Aziraphale struggled to find his voice. Perhaps he should have sent one of those texts instead but he hadn’t been able to remember how to do that bit.

“Ah, um, I’m on my way back now,” he began, sidestepping the question. “Um, Connaught, uh… twenty minutes ok?”

Crowley could hear something out of place in the angel’s voice, but he knew him well enough after all this time to know it was something probably better left to chat to him about in person. “Sure thing, see you shortly, Angel.”

* * *

When Crowley arrived, Aziraphale was already sitting at the table as the Maître D’ showed Crowley to his seat. He still had the headphones in, and was startled when Crowley touched his shoulder gently to get his attention. “Oh! Oh, Crowley, you’re here…” he removed the headphones slowly, avoiding eye contact, and took a gulp of a tumbler of whisky on the table before him. Crowley raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Starting on the hard stuff a little early in the afternoon, Angel?” He asked, amused, and sat down. Aziraphale nodded and nudged a second tumbler across the table toward the demon, nodding at it pointedly. Crowley looked surprised, but understood Aziraphale’s unspoken language as well as anyone might after so long together, and obediently gulped it down. “That bad, eh? Want to tell me what’s up? Should I be worried? All the demons of hell on your tail? Sold a book you didn’t mean to?” Aziraphale shook his head and looked uncomfortable.

“I need to talk to you, Crowley.” He said, stiffly, fiddling with the phone on the table nervously. An icy chill shot down Crowley’s spine in apprehension. This didn’t sound good. He waved at the waiter and nodded his head toward the empty tumblers. When the waiter returned with a bottle of 60 year old Lagavulin malt to top off the glasses, Crowley indicated that he should leave the bottle. They each took another gulp. Aziraphale shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“I believe I have been rather stupid” he began. Crowley frowned in disagreement and opened his mouth to scoff, but was halted by a raised hand. “No, really, please hear me out, Crowley, this is important.” He sighed and stared into the depths of his glass, as if the answer might be found there. “I have treated you really quite abominably, my dear boy. And you never deserved any of it. You have been patience itself with me for far too long. You have put up with me behaving like a complete … a complete…” he gave up. “Oh I don’t know, but whatever it was, I’ve been a complete and utter one of them.” He sighed, and took another gulp, finishing the glass. Crowley obediently topped it off again for him, and knocked back some of his own, lost for words.

Aziraphale finally grit his teeth, and, still staring into his whisky tumbler, avoiding eye contact, he pushed the phone across the table toward Crowley, who took it, confused. “You don’t want it?” Aziraphale shook his head and pointed at the screen, which was unlocked. Crowley’s eyes fell to what was on it, and he froze. Oh shit.

His eyes were wide behind his shades, his heart had stopped he was sure. He couldn’t breathe. Oh fuck.

He stared down at the “Angel 2 playlist” on the screen. Aziraphale opened his mouth to speak. “And the previous one” he said, tightly, finally lifting his eyes slightly to look up at Crowley, biting his lips nervously.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley started, hesitatingly. “I…” his heart had _definitely_ not stopped, it was going berserk. His hands shook. He reached out and grabbed the bottle, then knocked back a large couple of gulps. Aziraphale looked disapproving. Crowley breathed again. “You listened to all of them?” he managed at last. Aziraphale nodded slowly.

“They were beautiful, Crowley, all of them… just like you are.”

Crowley was glad he didn’t have a mouthful of anything at that point or the angel would have been wearing it. “B… b… beautiful?” he gasped with difficulty. Aziraphale nodded and smiled at him. His hand reached across the table to envelop Crowley’s gently. Crowley didn’t pull away. He stared dumbly at their hands, wound together on the white tablecloth.

Aziraphale spoke again, his voice still wavering. “I’m so sorry, my love. It should have been more clear to me after all this time. We know each other so well, well enough to fool heaven and hell for heaven’s sake. No one in existence could possibly know each other as well as we do, and yet, somehow, I’ve managed to miss this, all along. I mean I had hoped, but always assumed it was just me projecting my own hopes and desires onto you. How can you ever forgive me?”

Crowley gulped and found his voice. “Aziraphale. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to risk everything we had, I never wanted to make you fall. I never knew what might happen if I were to ask you and you’d say yes. There are so many reasons I never dared, mostly to do with me being a fucking coward, but the rest to do with the fact I love you too much to want to risk anything happening to you. I had to hide it, to protect you.”

Aziraphale nodded, understanding. “I think if I were to fall, it’d have happened by now, my dear. After everything we’ve done.” He smiled, weakly. “Do you still… feel the same? You poured so much emotion into those songs…”

Crowley nodded and gripped his hand tighter, leaning forward, his voice fierce in its intensity. “Of _course_ I fucking do, Aziraphale, I’ve never felt any other way. I _love_ you, you beautiful, ridiculous angel. I always have.”

Aziraphale choked out a sound, half laugh, half sob, and held Crowley’s hand just as tightly, the other hand rising to hide his eyes as fresh tears welled up in them. Crowley slid from his chair and knelt by Aziraphale’s, not letting go of his hand, his other one lifted to draw Aziraphale’s from his eyes. “Look at me, Angel.” He whispered softly.

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley on his knees before him. Crowley met his gaze, then realised it wasn’t enough. He looked around the room, grunted, and snapped his fingers with a grimace. It wasn’t easy to do what he just did, and he’d be feeling the effects afterwards, but for the moment, his entire being braced against the flow of time and ground it to a shuddering halt around them. He gritted his teeth against the pressure of it trying to restart against his will.

He removed his shades and met Aziraphale’s soft gaze. “Never…” he began, his voice fierce, “… _NEVER_ doubt my fucking love for you, Aziraphale. You are the only being in this entire goddamned universe I ever cared about, or ever will. You are the sole reason for my continued existence on this planet, you’re the reason I wanted to save the damned thing – for you, and me. So you could carry on enjoying your sushi, and books, and chocolates, and everything you enjoy. And so that I could enjoy you enjoying them.” He finished. He was shaking slightly with the effort of maintaining the time bubble, but this was important.

“Crowley, my dear. I love you too.” Aziraphale whispered back, overwhelmed. He reached out tentatively to stroke Crowley’s face. The demon closed his eyes for a moment and tipped his head into the contact, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes again and tugged on Aziraphale’s hand to pull him down closer, then reached up with his other again to touch the angel’s soft face in turn.

He could feel Aziraphale shaking under his touch. He reached forward and hesitated with their lips a mere breath apart, his gaze questioning. Aziraphale’s lips parted slightly and he closed the distance between them, bringing their lips together.

Their world tore apart and rebuilt itself behind their eyes, galaxies spun, flared and died. The world rearranged itself into the new form that included them as something inseparable at its core. They had always been, and they always would. Nothing else existed but each other, nothing else mattered. The universe was forgotten. All that mattered was their love at the centre of it.

After an eternity, Crowley grunted in pain and broke off. He was losing his grip on time and it was grinding inexorably back against his resistance. He paused to put his shades back on, then let lose his grip with a gasp, allowing time to flood back into the room. The waiters continued in their steps across the deep carpet, and light conversation and the chinking of cutlery on crockery resumed around them.

“We’re out of here, Angel.” He declared, standing. He slapped a bunch of notes on the table, took Aziraphale’s hand, and led him out the door. His flat was a short walk around the corner, they should have been there in mere minutes, except that Crowley kept stopping to kiss his angel every few feet. Against a wall, against the plate glass window of a shop, against some iron railings, in a shop doorway, against a tree, against a parked car, their jostling setting off the alarm. At that point Aziraphale grabbed his hand tighter and dragged him along down the street more quickly.

Once inside the flat, Crowley kicked off his shoes and Aziraphale followed suit. The demon waved his hand at the expensive Bang and Olufsen sound system, and the “Angel” playlist from the phone flowed gently from the speakers. He set his shades aside, grinned mischievously, then pushed Aziraphale up against the wall in a crushingly passionate kiss, grinding his hips against him in his fervour. Aziraphale gasped against him. Crowley’s hands were ripping his own clothing off, casting aside his tie and jacket, then reaching for Aziraphale’s coat and sliding it from his shoulders. Slim fingers deftly undid the angel’s bowtie and slid it slowly from his neck, then their lips were together again, tongues searching, bodies too hot, and Aziraphale was shedding his waistcoat eagerly.

Aziraphale’s hands were lifting Crowley’s shirt off, then fumbling with his own shirt buttons as Crowley kissed down his neck, breath hot on his skin, nipping tenderly, and then latching onto his collarbone and sucking a love bite there as Aziraphale groaned into his hair, and his hand quested down between them, drawing a surprised gasp from the demon. “I _know_ you have a bedroom around here somewhere, Crowley” Aziraphale whispered into his ear. Crowley nodded and stepped back, taking his hand and leading him down the cold concrete hall.

The room was partly as Aziraphale had expected, and partly not. The bed certainly was – a vast sprawling altar of luxurious pillows and soft charcoal grey Egyptian cotton sheets. But he wouldn’t, at least until today, have thought that there’d be an array of musical instruments hung on the walls. A 12 string ovation guitar sat by the bed as if it had just been set down recently. Crowley noticed his gaze and smiled bashfully. “Was working on something when you called” he mumbled by way of explanation.

“Will you show me?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley hesitated. “Later? I kind of want to make you make interesting sounds first, if that’s ok?”

Aziraphale laughed. “It’s more than ok, my love.” He pulled Crowley into another kiss and they collapsed down onto the bed together. Crowley lifted himself up on one arm and looked into Aziraphale’s clear blue eyes seriously. “Are you sure you want this, Angel?” Aziraphale’s expression softened and he stroked his fingers lightly over the serpent sigil on the demon’s cheek tenderly, making him shiver with delight.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, my darling, now please… love me.”

Crowley did. 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs: [ YOUTUBE PLAYLIST HERE ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLluHwDmftW2NenJxKFnsdcPrPIZrdwXj4)  
> From Eden – Hozier  
> Vehicle – the Ides of March  
> You don’t know me – Eddy Arnold  
> I scare myself – Beth Crowley  
> Halo – Lotte Kestner  
> In these arms – Bon Jovi  
> I want you to want me – cheap trick  
> Silent Partners – Laura Branigan  
> Earth Angel – The Penguins  
> Tears in Heaven – Eric Clapton  
> never tear us apart - INXS  
> Good old fashioned lover boy – Queen  
> Wicked game – Chris Isaak  
> The Nearness of you – Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong  
> Can’t help falling in love – Elvis Presley  
> You sexy thing - hot chocolate  
> Mea Culpa – Enigma  
> broken wings – Mr. Mister  
> Nothing’s gonna stop us now – Starship  
> Pale Blue Eyes – Velvet Underground  
> Fly me to the moon – Frank Sinatra  
> Just what I needed the Cars  
> Running Up that Hill - Kate Bush  
> Nobody - Hozier  
> Total eclipse of the heart - Bonnie Tyler  
> All the things I’ve done - The Killers  
> Stay with me – Sam Smith  
> Iris – goo goo dolls  
> Sinners – Lauren Aquilina  
> Take a chance on me – abba  
> Angel – Aerosmith  
> I wouldn’t mind – He is We  
> Too sick to pray – Alabama 3  
> The Impossible Dream – Andy Williams  
> Angel – Aretha Franklin  
> You’re all I need to get by – Aretha Franklin  
> I’ve got a feeling I’m falling – Anette Hanshaw  
> I knew you were waiting for me – Aretha Franklin  
> Love me do – the Beatles  
> A thousand years – Christina Perri  
> I want to hold your hand – the Beatles  
> Only you – the platters  
> To love somebody – The Bee Gees  
> Ever fallen in love with someone (you shouldn’t have fallen in love with)? – the Buzzcocks  
> Words –The Bee Gees  
> Losing my religion - REM  
> If I can’t have you - The Bee Gees  
> Circle in the sand – Belinda Carlisle  
> How deep is your love – The Bee Gees  
> Islands in the stream – Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers  
> I touch myself – Belinda Carlisle  
> Lonely Boy – the Black Keys  
> Hurts like hell - Fleurie  
> Hell of a season – the Black Keys  
> Always – Bon Jovi  
> My Love – Diana Ross and Lionel Richie  
> Lay your hands on me – Bon Jovi  
> Bed of roses – Bon Jovi  
> Heaven is a place on earth – Belinda Carlisle  
> I’m not in love – 10CC  
> Angels would fall – Melissa Etheridge  
> Something to belive in – Bon Jovi  
> Angel of mercy – Dire Straits  
> One of these nights – the Eagles  
> Twist – Goldfrapp  
> needing/getting okgo  
> last leaf – okgo  
> invincible – okgo  
> save me – Queen  
> don’t be cruel – Elvis Presley  
> Burning love – Elvis Presley  
> waiting for the day – erasure  
> Runnin’ on faith – Eric Clapton  
> Songbird – Fleetwood Mac  
> A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square  
> Carnival of rust – Poets of the fall  
> can’t fight this feeling any more – REO speedwagon  
> Angel – theory of a deadman  
> How do I get you alone – Heart


End file.
